by Sarah Toney (This story contains suicide.) The air was thin and icy. Breathing it in felt like swallowing shattered glass. The city was beautiful from this height and the boy wanted to reach out and feel the warmth of the setting sun. The heaviness in his chest felt a…
by Gonzalinho da Costa A theory works until you try it out. A theory corrected by experience is no longer a theory. Wisdom is life experience applied to well-considered judgment. Darkness arises from the absence or deficiency of light, obscurity from its excess. Religion…
by Libby O’Connor Dear Mr. Frost, I do not think this path is wide enough for the two of us. There is a road you’ve traveled, that I’d like to tread; But, Mr. Poe, my rapid heartbeat is driving me mad with its unrelenting T H U M P I…
by Lynn Doiron 1. I found nubby letter R’s meant for jackets, meant to brag, meant to say to everyone, I got this one for swimming, this one for track. I found the Iwo Jima buckle, brass and never worn. I found the ball-strike counter from his kneeling days behind…
By Pamela Hammond A honey haze spreads over a hill where ravines invite dreams in blue shadows. Worries melt away in twilight like fire losing its flame to a curl of smoke. Tall trees link together— a grove. I find comfort watching the shift of light. And tonight, rustling bird…
by Judith Grissmer It is the last night before seasonal renters arrive. Sun casts crimson on windows settles behind black pine. As I sit on our beach-house steps, the small colony of feral cats that live here year-round lie on the driveway at my feet. They have kept me company…
by J.P. Colby Looking ahead all I can see are dark shapes; suggestions as to what may lay in wait. But I am not scared; if ever I can’t sleep because of the dark monsters lurking ahead, I can look behind me, or directly down at myself as a reminder…
by Laura Schulkind August nights we seek dark meadows to lie entwined, light show above us. Still surprised each time by the hush of these fireworks arcing across sky. Think not of their fire but ours on this earthy bed hurtling us through space. August finds us here beneath rain…
by Naomi Ruth Lowinsky Red River sing us a drinking song Summer’s spell broken Sing of the way we used to be When we swam in each other Swam in you Before Drought exhausted the garden Before Fate rode in On a Night Mare Breath labors Blood stammers Bone…
by Ann Minoff on the corner of rush and walton an incandescent bridge between the two halves of my mind momentarily shines as families crowd the stores carrying packages for their holiday tree my new grandson, daughter beside me when this intergalactic nexus flashes through the cheeriness and epidemic stimulation…
by John P. Kristofco midnight orphan, stepping like a deer outside the woods, come to taste the buds beside the stream, soften stones, veil falcon’s prey, lay back on the grass and gaze into our souls, skittish at the sun like birds, too light to fall, too soft to…